


Athos's Hat

by CanadianGarrison



Series: Choices and Consequences [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Scent Kink, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4526874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanadianGarrison/pseuds/CanadianGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D'Artagnan knew it was wrong, but he hadn't been able to help himself, and it was too late now. That's all there was to it. He would just have to hope nobody found out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Athos's Hat

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet, inspired by the news that Tom Burke gave his first Athos hat to the head of his fan club.
> 
> Thanks very much to the Jack for editing and encouraging, I couldn’t have done this without you! All mistakes are my own, and sadly I do not own the characters.

D'Artagnan knew it was wrong, but he hadn't been able to help himself, and it was too late now. That's all there was to it. He would just have to hope nobody found out.

* * *

 

Athos entered the garrison, scowl deeper and mood darker than was his usual, even for mornings after nights like the one he'd had. Nights where he'd started with wine but ended with brandy; nights where he'd started in a nice reputable tavern and ended up closer to the Court of Miracles than Musketeers usually dared go. Nights where someone might take advantage of his less-than-coherent state to steal something valuable from him...

Athos prowled the courtyard, long minutes stretching out where no-one dared break the tension. Then, finally, Porthos spoke up.

"Athos. Are you all right? You're late, for the first time in years, and now... Well, look at you.

"What happened to your hat?!"

* * *

 

Late that night, d'Artagnan lay in bed, trying to think about the trouble he would be in if Athos found out what he'd done. He might lose his chance at a commission, the one thing he'd worked so hard to gain! But every time he pictured Athos looking stern, or disapproving, or maybe even punishing him, d'Artagnan felt a jolt of need run through his body. How would he ever face the man again?

Rolling onto his side, d'Artagnan rummaged under the bed, after a moment pulling out Athos's hat, no worse for having spent the day hidden away. Turning it in his hands, d'Artagnan examined the hat from every angle, trying to determine exactly what made him react so strongly. It was just a hat. Nicer than some, perhaps not as nice as others. Brown. Well-shaped brim. There was a leather band with a feather in it, and what seemed to be a band of silk around the inside where it would rest against Athos's head. D'Artagnan lay back down, stretching out and staring at the ceiling, hat resting on his chest. What had he done?

Finally d'Artagnan decided he would just have to go to sleep and deal with it in the morning. There was nothing else for it. Not wanting to put the hat away, but also not wanting to crush it, d'Artagnan lifted the hat and placed it right over his face, so his nose was nearly touching the very center of the crown. For a moment he thought he really would sleep, and then he breathed in.

In that moment, two things happened. First, d'Artagnan was hit with a rush of Athos's scent, stronger than he'd ever experienced it. Second, all the blood in his body rushed down to his dick, making him hard faster than ever before in his life.

Not quite sure that the two things were connected, d'Artagnan took a second, cautious breath. Athos surrounded him. Athos was everything he could think about, Athos was his whole world. d'Artagnan groaned and took his dick in hand, squeezing hard to match the pounding of his heart in his chest.

Breathing quickly now, d'Artagnan loosened his grip and began to stroke, taking in every scent, every bit of Athos he could find. Reaching up to touch the brim of the hat with his other hand, d'Artagnan felt the rough texture under his fingers and imagined it on Athos's head, protecting him from the elements, giving him that extra unapproachable sexy … _something_.

d'Artagnan stroked faster, wondering what Athos would think, if their eyes would meet in the garrison and Athos would just know, somehow, what d'Artagnan had done. Instead of upsetting him, the idea of Athos knowing — knowing and liking it — made him even harder. d'Artagnan's hand moved up to the head of his dick, twisting a little before sliding back down to grip firmly around the shaft and then squeeze, squeeze so hard and stroke as he breathed in those scents of Athos and sweat and long-ago rain.

d'Artagnan let go of the hat, intending to leave it where it was, but the way his body was rocking with every long, hard stroke moved his head and the hat fell back just a little. Now d'Artagnan's nose was pressed right up to the silky inner band and the brim was resting on his lips. The scent was nearly overwhelming, sweat and something else that was just Athos, and d'Artagnan thought it was the best, most arousing thing he'd ever smelled. Sighing out another moan, d'Artagnan couldn't help but kiss Athos's hat where it touched his mouth, careful to keep it dry and leave no trace, but giving it every bit of longing and admiration that he wanted to show Athos himself.

Just the thought of kissing Athos brought him even closer to the edge, and d'Artagnan brought his other hand down to cup and roll his balls, thrilling at the thought that this same hand had just been touching Athos's hat. He imagined Athos's hand on his balls, working and even crushing a little, bringing him closer and closer. Still kissing Athos's hat, trying to feel every aspect of its texture with his lips, d'Artagnan breathed deeply. Now that he knew Athos’s scent so intimately, he didn't know how he'd live without it.

Images raced through d'Artagnan's mind — Athos removing his hat to run his hands back through his hair; Athos standing guard with Porthos and Aramis flanking him, leathers fitting him perfectly; Athos flashing that tiny little smile when d'Artangan finally learned what Athos was trying to teach him. Finally, D'Artagnan pictured Athos with an expression of impressed incredulity, knowing and even glad that d'Artagnan wanted him enough to brave his displeasure by stealing his hat, and as he groaned out Athos's name he spent all over his hand and chest, careful to keep the hat clean. After all, some things just weren't done.

* * *

 

Athos was in no better mood the next morning, but by mid-day his hat had been found, sitting on an out-of-the-way bench in the stables, and everyone relaxed.

When Athos put his hat back on, however, he was suddenly overtaken with thoughts of d'Artagnan. This wasn't entirely new, but usually he was able to restrain himself, only contemplating what their new recruit might look like, say, waiting for some well-earned discipline, when he was safely alone in his rooms. But for some reason the thought kept returning to mind. His hat looked normal — Athos couldn't see anything different about it at all — but wearing it gave him the very distinct sense that their new recruit needed to be punished for ... something. Definitely something. Perhaps tonight he would see if d'Artagnan wanted company after their evening meal. There was something very strange going on with his hat...


End file.
